A/N: This one was super hard to write. I feel like it's resolved too quickly, but I couldn't go any further with it. This is actually one of my worst fears! Thanks for reading.
Bzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzz.
The vibration of a phone woke him up. Nightwing slowly opened his eyes, only to find himself in complete darkness. At least there was no bright light to increase the heavy pounding in his head.
Bzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzz.
It was on his stomach, which was weird. Why was his phone lying on his stomach? He attempted to lift his left arm in order to pick up the phone, but the flames that burst through the bone told him it was broken. Nightwing decided to leave that arm lying by his side. The right arm was not on fire – it didn't hurt at all – and for that he was grateful. His elbow was propped up on something soft, and his index finger was attached to a string. Where that string led, he had no idea. Complete darkness was not something he was fond of.
Nightwing slowly moved his right hand toward the phone and was relieved when nothing crashed down on him. He pulled a little harder on the string, just enough to pick up the still-vibrating cell phone. An unexpected puff of dust flew into the air and settled around him. Ignoring the urge to sneeze, the twenty-year-old picked up the phone.
It was not his, he realized as he grasped it in his hand. He did not own an old school flip phone. Nightwing pushed his thumb under the edge and flicked it open. A tiny green light from a tiny green screen emitted an eerie glow that did nothing to dispel the darkness around him.
"Hello, Nightwing, I'm glad you're finally awake."
The male voice was vaguely familiar, but the hero couldn't quite place it.
"What have you discovered so far?"
Ignoring the question, Nightwing asked, "What do you want?"
"I already have what I want. Well, it will be a few hours, depending on some things. But it's a foregone conclusion, so I can say I already have it. Therefore, you don't need to know what I want. Maybe I'll tell you later. Then again, maybe not."
Nightwing huffed in irritation, already tired of the monologue.
"Do you know where you are? Don't answer that, there's no way you could know where you are. Not yet, anyway. Unless you've been awake for a while, I suppose. Have you?"
"Have I what?" the hero growled.
"Been awake for a while?" the man responded, exasperation in his voice.
"Why does that matter?"
"Just answer the question!"
It was a command, but Nightwing wasn't going to obey the command of a criminal. So, he remained quiet.
"Fiiiiiiiine," the man whined. "I'll give you some time to figure it out. Talk to you later."
"Wait!" Nightwing exclaimed, but the man had already hung up.
The young hero decided it was time to sit up. Maybe his head would stop pounding if the blood was more evenly distributed throughout his body. Nightwing thought about using his left arm to push himself up, but even just the idea made him nauseous.
Dropping the phone back on his stomach, Nightwing slowly straightened his right arm and laid it by his side. Other than some more puffs of dust, nothing fell on him. The hero was becoming more confident in his ability to use his arm without being crushed by something when the string was pulled.
Whatever he was lying on was soft, which was a pleasant change from the metal he usually woke up to. Nightwing slid his elbow back so he could prop himself up. He only made it a few inches before his head hit something hard, sending more than just some puffs of dust down on him. It was more like a short shower of dirt.
Something soft, can't sit up without hitting his head, dirt falling on him. Everything clicked.
"No, just…crap," he whispered, real fear filling his voice.
Nightwing wasn't afraid of the dark, he wasn't even afraid of being alone in the dark anymore. He had overcome that fear when he was sixteen. However, Nightwing was very afraid of his current circumstance. It was, in fact, his worst fear. Something that he had nightmares about sometimes, even though it had never happened to him.
"No, I'm fine, I'm just assuming the worst."
He tried to reassure himself, but when he forced himself to raise his right arm, he was dismayed to find that his assumption was correct. His hand immediately hit what he knew was wood. Nightwing attempted to stay calm, but terror was filling his body and overwhelming any coherent thoughts.
The hero began hyperventilating, even though he knew it was the worst thing he could possibly do in this situation. It was the vibration of the phone that pulled him out of it.
Hear: several short buzzes.
Touch: an object slightly bouncing around on his torso.
See: nothing.
Smell: dirt.
Taste: dirt.
"Scratch those last three," he whispered as he struggled to slow down his breathing.
His senses didn't need to rudely remind him of his current predicament when he was attempting to calm himself.
Taking a slow, deep breath, Nightwing picked up the phone and flipped it open.
"Have you figured it out yet?"
The tone was condescending, but the hero didn't yet trust himself to speak without allowing the fear to manifest itself through a trembling voice. That would give the villain – whomever it was – something to mock. A weakness that a hero shouldn't have. Batman wouldn't be afraid. Red Hood, maybe, but he had a good reason. Nightwing was supposed to be stronger than this.
"Your silence is telling, Nightwing. You're afraid. But what is the fear? Darkness, being alone in that darkness, or knowing that you are buried under six feet of solid earth?"
The affirmation of his assumption almost made him start hyperventilating again.
Focus on the voice.
It wasn't a friendly voice, but it was the only thing he had to keep him sane at the moment.
"No one will find you. Now you know what I want: you, dead and buried. How long are you going to be able to last? I hear you wheezing; your fear is going to make it so much more painful for you."
Nightwing closed his eyes again and tried to take even breaths. The man was wrong, because Nightwing had a tracker and was going to activate it. Somebody would find him. The man was wrong.
"By the way, I removed your tracker. That would be cheating on your part. Can't have you cheating. Do you want to know why there is a string attached to your finger?"
No.
"Let me tell you a story. A long time ago, people were worried about being accidentally pronounced dead, which meant they would be buried alive. Your situation is not an accident, but that's a tangent. When a person died, his family would tie a string to his index finger, just as I have done to you. That string went up through a pipe attached to the coffin, which led up through the dirt and was connected to a bell. You see, people were so scared of your current predicament that they had a failsafe. If they were alive, all they had to do was pull the string. The string would ring the bell, which would let people aboveground know that they needed to unbury the person as soon as possible."
Hope blossomed in Nightwing's chest. A failsafe.
"I had to do it, because I'm in love with the Victorian era and this is a perfect ending for you."
"Why?" the hero said, attempting to make his voice sound stronger than he felt.
"It wouldn't be a proper burial if there wasn't a bell. And heroes need to have proper burials, don't they? And it gives you hope, which will make you last longer, which will make accepting the inevitable much more painful. I can just see it: the mighty Nightwing, fruitlessly ringing a bell as he slowly suffocates."
The last sentence was accompanied by an evil chuckle. Nightwing tried to put a face with the cackle, but it was rather difficult to concentrate on more than the fact that he was….
STOP!
"This is the last time we will speak. I'm going to give you a while to try to figure something out, but it will be in vain. There is no way for you to escape. I'll call you tomorrow, but you won't be able to answer because you'll be dead by then. No one will find you, Nightwing, because no one is looking. I made sure of that. The boys think you're on a mission and the Bat thinks you hate him. Nobody will trust a call from someone claiming to be Nightwing. Also, it's a burner phone, completely untraceable. Goodbye."
The man hung up, and the hero almost burst into tears. It was embarrassing to think about – the 'mighty' Nightwing sobbing like a baby.
"Stop," he commanded quietly. "There is always a way."
You have a phone.
Nightwing quickly dialed the first number that popped into his head. What the man had said was true – Bruce probably hated him and wouldn't want to hear from him – but it was the only number his terrified mind could remember right now. Maybe, just this once, Batman would put aside the hate and decide to help him.
"Wayne Manor."
Alfred's voice was like a ray of sunshine lighting up Nightwing's tomb.
"I need…Batman. Please."
"Right away, Master Dick."
Alfred put down the Manor phone and picked up the Batphone extension that led to the Batcave.
"What is it, Alfred?" Batman answered, irritated by the interruption. "I'm busy with this new case."
"Sir, Master Dick is on the Manor phone. He sounds rather terrified, although he did a good job trying to hide it, and he asked for Batman."
"I'll take it down here," Batman responded without hesitation, a tingle of worry wedging itself into his mind.
Bruce and Dick had fought, but that was not going to stop the man from answering a call from his oldest son. His son who was rarely scared of anything, so the situation must be really bad if he was terrified enough to call Batman.
"This is Batman."
"This is…uh, Nightwing."
The boy was whispering, and Alfred had discerned correctly. Nightwing sounded terrified.
"What's wrong, Nightwing? What's going on? You don't sound like yourself."
"I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have called you, but…I just…I need help, Br…Batman."
"Don't waste time apologizing, just tell me what's wrong!" Batman commanded.
"Okay, sorry. Um…no, I can't. I can't say it!"
Nightwing was now sounding hysterical, and Batman wanted to jump through the phone and hug him. But first he needed to know where the younger hero was.
"Nightwing, just breathe, okay? Where are you? I can come get you and we can get through this. Just tell me where you are and I'll leave now."
The only thing Batman heard was rapid wheezing.
"Nightwing, talk to me!" he demanded, hoping the tone would pull Nightwing out of whatever was causing him to hyperventilate.
"You…you know my…um, my worst fear?"
"Yes, but I thought you overcame that a few years ago."
"No, my, uh, other one."
Batman closed his eyes and tried to think of something Dick was terrified of.
"Falling?" he tried.
Be a man and just say it.
But that will make it real.
It's already real!
Batman impatiently waited as Nightwing internally argued with himself.
"Where are you?!" the man finally yelled.
"I'm…buried," Nightwing whispered.
Batman's eyes snapped open. Of course! Being buried alive was – had always been – Dick's worst fear! A picture popped into his head: Dick, scratching at the wood of a coffin while suffocating under six feet of dirt.
Nightwing was wheezing again, so Batman shoved the image out of his mind.
"Okay, chum, you need to calm down. Slow down your breathing to conserve oxygen. I will find you and I will get you out. Listen to me, Nightwing. Do you know where you are?"
"No, but…there's a bell."
Batman furrowed his brow and tried to think of any place with bells in or around Gotham City. There were a lot of churches and a few towers.
"Okay, well, I'll start with churches…"
"No, on my finger. Victorians…bells…graves…just, look it up. I can't breathe, Bruce, I can't breathe!"
"Nightwing, calm down. You can breathe, you are okay, and I will find you. But, in order to find you I have to hang up this phone and get on my cell phone. You know my number, right?"
"No," Nightwing whispered. "I…I can't remember."
"It's fine, don't worry. Just stay on the line and I'll pull up your tracker. Turn it on for me."
"He took it."
"Okay, I'll track the phone."
"It's a burner."
Batman almost threw the Manor phone across the Batcave in frustration.
"Okay, I'm going to tell you the number, and you're going to repeat it back to me. Understand?"
"Yeah," Nightwing responded quietly.
"330-530-7972," Batman stated slowly. "Repeat."
"330-530-7972," Nightwing responded.
"Okay, keep repeating that. In order to call me, you're going to have to hang up first. It will be silent for a few moments while you dial the number. Just keep saying it and I'll answer as soon as it rings. What's the number?"
"330-530-7972."
Nightwing sounded a little more confident when he said it this time.
"Okay, keep saying it out loud, over and over until I answer. Here's what you're going to do. Hang up and dial that number. What number are you going to dial?"
"330-530-7972."
"Excellent. Go."
Batman listened to the silence for half a second, then hung up. He grabbed his cell phone, closed his eyes, and waited.
"330-530-7972. 330-530-7972."
Nightwing repeated the number as he pressed 'end' on the phone. He quickly dialed the number and waited. Batman had told him to keep repeating the number out loud until he answered, so that's what Nightwing did.
"530-330-7972."
The young hero paused. He had just said it wrong. Or had he said it wrong the time before? Which one had he dialed? Was either one correct?
"Crap."
Batman waited. And waited. Why was it taking so long? Nightwing had said it three times, and Batman was sure the boy was following instructions by continuing to repeat it. So why wasn't he on the phone with his son right now?
His phone buzzed, and Batman quickly pressed the green button.
"I'm here, Nightwing."
"Why would Nightwing be calling you?"
"Jason, you have to get off this line!"
"Of course you don't want to talk to me. Fine, I'll…"
"No, that's not what I meant! Nightwing's in trouble…"
"What?! Where is he?" Red Hood demanded.
"I don't know, but he's going to be calling this phone…"
"On my way. Call me if you leave."
The phone went silent, and Batman began waiting again.
The line was busy. Nightwing hung up, glanced at the number, and hit redial. Still busy. He must have dialed it wrong. Attempting to ignore the dread building up inside him, Nightwing tried the other number. Which one was it?
"Hola!"
This was obviously not the right number. Nightwing quickly hung up. And then the phone buzzed.
"How did you…"
"Nightwing!" the man crowed. "Were you expecting someone else?"
When he didn't receive a response, the man continued, "I'm going to turn off this phone. I'm not taking any chances that some bat machine can figure out a way to track it."
"No!" Nightwing exclaimed. "Please," he whispered.
"Awwww, wittle Nightwing is scared," the man mocked him. "I guess it doesn't matter, because even if you do call someone, you're in a place where nobody will even think to look. And talking to someone will keep you sane, right? Which will make it last longer, probably. Alright, I won't turn it off. You're welcome."
The man hung up. Nightwing looked at the phone, found the first number he had dialed, and hit redial.
"Nightwing, I'm here!" Batman exclaimed, relief in his voice when he saw the word 'unknown'.
"I…thought I was wrong."
"You did it, I knew you could do it! Red Hood is on his…"
"No! Don't involve Jason, Bruce! It will…he doesn't need the memories. Please, Bruce, leave him out of it."
At that very moment, Red Hood zipped into the Batcave. He parked his bike, raced across the room, and snatched the phone away from Batman.
"Nightwing, tell me where you are. I will come get you."
"I'm fine, Hood. Don't worry about me."
"The heck you are!" Red Hood exclaimed. "You think I can't hear fear?! What's going on?!"
"Jason, please, give the phone back to Batman."
"Fine."
The answer surprised Batman, but then Red Hood pressed the 'speaker' button and laid the phone on the desk.
Batman considered the problem. Nightwing needed help, but he was right. Allowing Red Hood to know the situation would bring back unhealthy memories.
"Batman?"
"I'm here, chum," the man said as he reached for the phone.
Red Hood slapped his hand away and picked up the phone. He left it on speaker but held it tightly in his hand.
"Did you look it up?"
Batman growled and stepped away to the Batcomputer.
"I'm doing that right now," he stated as he input the information Nightwing had given him.
Red Hood watched the man's fingers fly across the keys and then saw the words that appeared:
Victorian, bells, graves
He immediately felt like throwing up. There was no way…no, Nightwing was not going to die like that.
"Nightwing, close your eyes and listen. I'm going to stay quiet, but I'm still here," Red Hood stated. "Listen for any tiny thing that might help us find you."
"Jay, you're not…Bruce, I told you…"
"Shut up and listen!" Red Hood commanded. "For one minute, just listen!"
Both men heard the quiet wheeze, but neither said anything about it. Red Hood was counting seconds in his head, and Batman was reading everything that the Batcomputer had given him about Victorian grave bells.
Nightwing did as he was told. He closed his eyes and concentrated on listening. The walls of the coffin began closing in, and he started to wheeze again. But then he pictured Red Hood, frantic in the Batcave, and he forced himself to breathe normally.
There was a bell at the top, which would ring when pulled by the string around his finger, but that wouldn't help with location. Nightwing kept his arm perfectly still and just listened.
The sounds were very faint, so quiet that the young hero assumed he was grasping at straws. But, he made a list in his head, just in case. He knew Red Hood would be counting, so he stayed silent and kept repeating the list in his head.
"Okay, Big Bird, what do you have for me?" Red Hood asked after exactly sixty seconds.
"Is it five o'clock?" Nightwing asked softly.
"Yes," Batman immediately responded. "In the morning," he clarified.
"Then I heard the 'bong' of a clock."
That narrowed it down to three places, which were very far apart from each other. They didn't have time to make a mistake.
"Okay, what else?" Red Hood asked.
"An owl."
That reduced the number of places to two – both churches with cemeteries. One was six miles south of Gotham City, and the other was eighteen miles north of Gotham City.
"Do you have anything else for us?"
"Water."
"What kind of water?" Batman jumped in. "Dripping, running, swirling…"
"I don't…I don't know, I'm sorry!"
"No, chum, don't apologize, it's okay. You did well."
Red Hood looked at Batman. If it was running water, it was south. If it was dripping water, it could be either one. They took a moment to think, but the short pause was too long for Nightwing. His breathing sped up, and Batman attempted to force himself to think faster.
"Nightwing, I have an idea," the Caped Crusader finally declared. "We've narrowed it down to two places. Red Hood is going to one, I'm going to the other. You know what Red Hood's bike sounds like, and you know what the Batmobile sounds like. You're going to have to listen very carefully and tell us which one you hear. But…"
Batman paused again; he really didn't want to have to say this. Red Hood nodded and made a 'continue' motion with his hand, accepting the plan and urging the older man to finish his sentence.
"But what?" Nightwing finally asked.
With a sigh of regret, the oldest hero stated, "We're all going to have to be completely silent. You have to be able to hear, and you can't do that if we're talking."
"It's fine," Nightwing replied, although his voice was trembling. "Just…don't hang up, okay?"
"No, of course not! In fact, both Red Hood and I will be connected with earbuds. All you have to do is let us know which vehicle you hear. You can do this," Batman stated confidently.
"Yeah," Nightwing whispered.
Red Hood put the phone back on the table and grabbed his helmet. Batman saw the younger man swipe at his eyes, and his heart broke for both of his boys.
"Earbud," he said, tossing one in Red Hood's direction.
Red Hood caught it easily, put it in his ear, and pushed his helmet on.
"North," Red Hood stated before sprinting to his bike.
Batman nodded. North was farther away from the Batcave, and Red Hood's bike could get there quicker than the Batmobile. The older hero snatched the phone off the table and strode to the Batmobile. It roared to life, he accelerated hard down the tunnel, and turned south as soon as he exited. He didn't care who found Nightwing first, he only cared that his son was still alive when they got there.
Nightwing stayed completely silent, straining his ears, commanding himself to hear something. Something besides the breathing of the people on the other end of the phone. At least they were still there.
"Jay, you don't have to do this," Nightwing whispered.
"Shut up, 'Wing."
Several tears slid down Nightwing's cheeks. Jason shouldn't have to be in this situation. This was Nightwing's fault. If he hadn't allowed whomever the criminal was to get the drop on him, his little brother wouldn't be reliving horrible memories.
"I'm sor…"
"Shut! Up!"
Twenty-three minutes later:
Staying silent for so long was more difficult than any of the three men could have ever imagined. It was physically painful, knowing they were connected but not daring to make a sound because doing so might lead to the death of the glue that held the Batfamily together.
Nightwing felt like he was going to go insane soon. He couldn't see anything, and the only thing he could hear was breathing. His left arm was on fire, and his head was still pounding, and he wanted to wake up and find out that this was just another nightmare. But he knew it wasn't. This one was very real, and it was more terrifying than any of the nightmares.
Finally, Nightwing heard something. It wasn't a roar, so it wasn't the Batmobile.
"Hood," he whispered. "I think…I think it's your bike."
Red Hood braked, stopped, and revved the engine.
"Did you…did you just rev?"
"Yeah, 'Wing, I did," Red Hood said with a relieved grin. "B, he's in my area. How fast can you get here with some shovels?"
"I'm thirty minutes away," Batman responded, frustration evident in his tone. "Stay with us, Nightwing. Red Hood, there's probably a shovel in the…"
"Yeah," Red Hood repeated, not wanting Batman to say 'the graveyard maintenance shed' out loud. "I'm going. Nightwing, start pulling your string, ring that bell for me. Yank it hard until I tell you to stop."
"Okay," Nightwing replied, his voice a little stronger.
Red Hood climbed off his bike and raced to the shed. Pulling out one of his guns, he shot the lock off, which was quicker than picking it.
"Did you just…"
"A lock," Red Hood interrupted. "Keep ringing your bell for me."
He yanked open the shed door and immediately saw the shovel. Red Hood grabbed it and sprinted to the gate leading to the actual cemetery. It was heavier than it looked, and it opened slower than any gate should ever open. As he stepped through the opening, Red Hood glanced around in dismay. There were graves everywhere, as far as the eye could see, and probably more in the retreating darkness that he couldn't see. Luckily, it would be completely light soon.
"You ringing that bell, 'Wing?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, keep yanking on that string."
"Yeah."
Red Hood began slowly walking down the path, the early warmth of the sun that was just beginning to rise at his back. His ears were straining to hear the tinkling of a small bell. But the graveyard was silent and still. He thought about turning at the first intersection, but decided that a criminal would want a hero way in the back where he wouldn't be found.
"Do you hear it, Hood?"
Nightwing had a trace of hope in his voice, and Red Hood didn't want to disappoint him.
"Shut up and keep ringing, I'm listening."
Red Hood had walked all the way down the center path and was halfway up the path on the right side when the Batmobile arrived.
"Location," Batman demanded.
"Um, meet me on the right side," Red Hood responded quickly.
Red Hood put the shovel down to mark his spot, then sprinted to meet Batman. When he saw the older man, Red Hood pulled the earbud out of his ear and gestured for Batman to do the same.
"I haven't heard any ringing, B," he whispered, holding the earbud by his side so Nightwing wouldn't hear their conversation. "I've been down the center and I'm halfway on the right. He heard my engine, so I know he's here, but I haven't heard anything at all."
"Okay, I'll go left, you finish on the right. I brought a Bat-shovel for you."
Red Hood accepted the tool and sprinted back to where he had left off.
"Nightwing? I'm here, chum. Keep ringing that bell."
"Yeah, B, I am."
The young hero sounded exhausted. Nightwing had been pulling the string for what seemed like days. All the movement was sending unending showers of dust into the coffin, and he was having difficulty holding back the coughs that wanted to burst out of him. However, he didn't want to cough in their ears, so he was forcing the feeling to recede. Which meant the coughs were building up in his chest. His lungs were burning with the effort, and his chest was constricted in pain, but he wasn't going to make any noise that might distract them.
Ten minutes later, Batman and Red Hood met by the front gate. They took out their earbuds again.
"He has to be here!" Red Hood exclaimed.
"Is this the only graveyard?" Batman asked. "Have you looked around the rest of the grounds?"
"Not yet, I started in the most obvious place."
"Okay, you start over by the church and I'll take the area on the far side of the fence."
With a short nod, Red Hood replaced his earbud and headed for the church. Batman took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the building frustration, then replaced his earbud and walked around the cemetery fence.
"You guys…still…there?" Nightwing whispered, not trusting himself to speak loudly without coughing.
"Yeah, 'Wing, we're gonna find you, okay? You just have one job right now: pull the string. Stop talking."
Nightwing nodded and thought about closing the phone in order to cough. But he didn't know if that would end the call, and the sound of his family breathing was the only thing keeping him going right now. He couldn't afford to end the call.
The hero felt like he had been in this predicament for a year when he finally heard something other than breathing.
"B, you need to come look at this."
Red Hood didn't sound excited, but he also didn't sound sad or angry. His voice was even, and Nightwing wondered why he was holding back his emotions.
"You still pulling that string?" Red Hood asked.
Batman's heavy breathing echoed in Nightwing's ears – the man was running.
"Yep."
Batman arrived and his eyes widened in shock when he saw what Red Hood was pointing at. It was a bell, moving back and forth over a mound of dirt, with the clapper removed. That's why they hadn't heard anything. Red Hood decided right then that he was going to kill the guy who had done this to his older brother.
Taking out his earbud, Batman loudly asked, "Nightwing, can you hear me?"
There was no response. Red Hood, his earbud still in, repeated the question.
"Yeah, Hood, I'm still here."
"Tell me if you hear something…different, okay?"
"Different?" Nightwing questioned.
Ignoring the response, both Batman and Red Hood began to dig. Four minutes later, Nightwing yelped in surprise when something hard hit the wood above his head. He couldn't hold back the coughing any longer, so he pushed the phone face down into the lining of the coffin and allowed his tight lungs to explode.
The two men digging heard the rasping coughs and glanced at each other with relief in their eyes. The criminal had only been able to dig three feet, making it much faster to find the box in which Nightwing was trapped. Thirty seconds later they were using the Bat-shovels as levers to maneuver the coffin out of the hole. It was difficult, but the tools were strong and adrenaline was fueling their muscles. Finally, the wooden box flipped over the edge of the hole.
It burst open and Nightwing was shoved out face-first onto the dirt. He rolled over himself twice before landing on his back. The landing knocked the wind out of him, and he was left gasping for air.
Batman and Red Hood were kneeling beside Nightwing less than five seconds after he landed.
"You're okay, chum, just breathe."
"He's trying to!"
"What happened, Nightwing? How did you get into this situation?"
"Geez, stop with the interrogation! He just got out of 'this situation'!"
"I don't remember," Nightwing stated. "I woke up because a phone on my torso was vibrating and…"
Nightwing slammed his mouth shut and shook his head.
"You don't have to tell us right now, 'Wing," Red Hood declared.
"Your left arm is broken," Batman commented. "Does anything else hurt?"
"Headache," Nightwing mumbled.
"Do you know who…"
"Shut up!" Red Hood yelled. "Give him a chance to breathe without throwing questions at him!"
"I'm fine, Hood," Nightwing replied. "I just need to find my bike and…"
"You are not riding home in this condition," Batman commanded. "I'm taking you to the Batcave."
"I don't…want to be underground," Nightwing said softly.
"Then we'll go to the Manor."
"Red Hood?"
"Yeah, I'll come, too. But only until you get settled so I can make sure you don't go through an interrogation."
Red Hood glared at Batman when he said the last word. Batman glared right back, knowing his second son was right but also wanting to find whoever had done this to his first son as soon as possible.
"Okay, enough with the glaring contest," Nightwing said wearily. "Let's just go."
Batman retrieved the Bat-wrap from his utility belt and wrapped the younger hero's left arm.
"It's not great, but it will do for now," he stated.
Nightwing nodded as Red Hood helped him stand up.
"I can walk, Hood," the man said with a slight grin when his brother didn't let go of his right arm.
"You were…down there…for who knows how long. It affects the leg muscles. I'm keeping you upright, idiot."
Nightwing discovered what the younger man meant when his left leg crumbled and he almost fell to the ground.
"Told you," Red Hood said with a smirk. "Don't ever do this again, okay?"
"I won't," Nightwing replied. "I'm going to find this criminal and…"
"And I'm going to take care of him," Red Hood growled.
"He's mine," Batman snapped.
This is the second son who has risen from the dead. I'm not letting it happen again.
"I have more contacts," Red Hood snarled.
"Guys, please, don't argue about who is going to take the guy down. Let's just go…"
"Home," Batman whispered, so quietly that he was sure nobody had heard it.
But Nightwing and Red Hood had been trained by Batman. Of course they had heard it. Neither of them commented on it, though. It sounded nice, but too many things had gone wrong in their complicated lives for them to even imagine that Wayne Manor could ever truly be 'home' again.
"He said you thought I was on a mission," Nightwing said with a glance at Red Hood.
"He was lying. Why would anybody tell me that you were on a mission?"
"Thanks for coming. Both of you. I wasn't sure…"
"Nightwing, I will always come for you," Batman stated with a sigh. "No matter what."
"I just…"
"No. Matter. What."
THE END